BOTTLA  RED

When there's steak on my plate I make no mistake
I'm no connoisseur but I know what I like
A bottla red, open a bottla red
Next to the barbie with your meat and bread
Full bodied flavour, a fruity after taste
The aroma's good on the nose in the middla me face
Some like the flavour, I like the taste
Buy by the case and save save save!

Bottla red, open a bottla red
It's the vegetable in three meat and veg
The Seppo's call it ketchup, Aussies say sauce
Of course.

When there's mates at my place we make no mistake
There's steak on our plate and we're feeding our face
The barbie's fired up and we're cooking something dead
In the back yard mate, next to the shed
Davo's on the T-bone, Glenno's eyeing off the cans
Tommo's huntin' somethin' with an arrow
And the kids are on the snags
And I'm eating a bottle of red while I'm drinking a can of green
I'm eating a bottle of red
I'm drinking a can of green

LONG NECK

BEER, more than just a breakfast drink
The versatile beverage in everyone's fridge
A six pack a stubbies, a slab a cans
BEER, look at what it's done for me
Check out me gut, isn't it a bewdy?

And you don't have to be a goose to have a long neck
WO-OH, WO-OH-OH

BEER, more than just a breakfast drink
Whoever invented it is a fucken good bloke
Give him a medal, give him .....give him a BEER
Give him a  Nobel prize for services to stupidity

And you don't have to be a goose to have a long neck
WO-OH, WO-OH-OH

BURNIN' RUBBER

Gettin into it, gettin out of it
Drop the clutch,  we're cruisin around a bit
Pedal to the metal, big block brute
Me mongrel mates in me mongrel ute

We're gunna burn some rubber
Burn rubber burn, burn, burn
Black from the smoke, red from the sun
We're off the beers, we're on the rum
And me pedal foot is itchin', a rush of blood to the head
Gunna lay down some rubber with this beast from out of me shed

And me drinkin' arm is twitchin, a rush of blood to the head
Watch the band in the bar, drinkin' beer, eatin' snags and bread
We're gunna burn some rubber
Burn rubber burn, burn, burn

Get her raised, get her lowered
I can't fucken see past the fucken big blower
Drink piss, talk shit
Yeah, yeah, nah, yeah that's it
Eatin' both types of dog
Dagwood and Hot
A bucket of chew'n'spew
With the lot
Classic cars, classic chicks
Smoke 'em up, Show ya tits

We're gunna burn some rubber
Burn rubber burn, burn, burn
We're off the rum, we're on the hooch
Aussie sheila's in their birthday suits
And me pedal foot is itchin', a rush of blood to the head
Gunna lay down some rubber with the beast from me shed

We're black from the smoke from the burn outs
Red from the heat from the sun
We're off the beers, we're on the rum

We're of the rum, we're on the hooch
Aussie sheila's in their birthday suits

Getting' into it, Getting' out of it
A rush of blood to the head

I'D RATHER BE ON A BREWERY TOUR

I'm up every morning at sparrows fart
I'd rather be on a brewery tour
I'm off to work and I'm working real hard
I'd rather be on a brewery tour
Sweat's pouring offa me from go to woah
I'd rather be on a brewery tour
Gunna stop by the brewery on my way home
I'd rather be on a brewery tour

I got me ticket
I'm at the front door
C'mon let me in now
I'm bloody thirsty
 I'm not a camel
I'm drier than a pommies towel

When I'm at work and I've stopped for smoko
I'd rather be on a brewery tour
When I'm doing nothing, just hanging 'round home
I'd rather be on a brewery tour
When I'm bashin' the bishop, when I'm havin' a root
I'd rather be on a brewery tour
When I'm down the bottl'o in me ute
I'd rather be on a brewery tour

I got me ticket
I'm at the front door
I'm here, I'm ready to go
Tell me something about beer
While I'm here
That I don't already know

I don't give a rats arse about you or your brewery
I just want to drink free beer

It tastes better!

I want a bottle in front of me
Not a frontal lobotomy

IT WASN'T ME

There's gunna be shenanigans, I'm getting really pumped,
It's gunna get ugly, there's gunna be fun,
I love my car, and the sound and when the power's down
I love the feel, I give it shit and it shakes the ground
The boys come 'round and we're off, sideways down the street
>From the marks on the ground you can tell where I've been

But it wasn't me
I didn't do it-no it wasn't me
I don't care what anybody says
N-n-n-n-n-no it wasn't me
And if you're thinking that it was me
Then you don't know what's going on

My mates and me work late at night to get the donk back in
All the bits are bolted on, we fire the machine,
The pressure's right, the rev's are strong, no oil leaks to see
I know its getting late, we roar back home at three
The neighbour's gone crook, the neighbour's not happy
The dog shat on his lawn and Kearney's pissing on his tree

But it wasn't me
I didn't do it-no it wasn't me
I don't care what anybody says
N-n-n-n-n-no it wasn't me
And if you're thinking that it was me
Then you don't know whets going on

I come in at four and start kicking off me stuff
The missus says I stink. Are you sure I need a tub?
Tranny, diff oil and beer and a Jack I had
Maybe she's cool and I'll get to throw a leg
Now she's going on about the mess out the front
Fucken hell she's screaming and has woken up the bub

But it wasn't me
I didn't do it-no it wasn't me
No care, no responsibility
N-n-n-n-n-no it wasn't me
And if you're thinking that it was me
Then you can go and get fucked

Get fucked
It wasn't me, it was some other dickhead

LAGERPHONE BLUES

WO-OH LAGERPHONE
OH-OH LAGERPHONE

Custom built by a master craftsman
It's a dying art don't you know
But I wouldn't be seen dead
Playing a stock standard lagerphone
Spent plenty bloody time searching the country
Looking for some genuine parts
Assembled in me shed with a bit of ingenuity,
And plenty of arse, not much class

Talkin' 'bout me lagerphone
Yeah, talkin' 'bout me lagerphone
WO-OH LAGERPHONE
OH-OH LAGERPHONE

It's got a blue headstock with big white knobs
And she never goes out of tune
When we're playing a gig everyone wants a go
Everyone in the room
But it takes a lot of skill and talent
To play the lagerphone well
And if you want to see it played real good
Get yourself to a Vee Bees rock'n'roll show

Talkin' 'bout me lagerphone
Yeah, talkin' 'bout me lagerphone
WO-OH LAGERPHONE
OH-OH LAGERPHONE

Well me missus just left, the dog just died
But I still got me lagerphone
The roof blew off me shed, me stuff got wet
But I still got me lagerphone
The telly's on the blink, me car won't start
But I still got me lagerphone
Oh no! Now me beer fridge has broke down
But I still got me lagerphone
I got hit by a truck and lost me leg
Just below me mouth
I once lost me left nut in a bizarre accident
That I don't want to talk about

But I still got me lagerphone
Yeah, I still got me lagerphone
WO-OH LAGERPHONE

MR INBETWEENIE

 Mr Inbetweenie
Hey mate, it's your shout
Hey mate, hey mate
Hey mate, it's your shout
Hey mate, it's your shout
But he's seen an opening
He'll get another one in
In-between
Mr Inbetweenie
He is a rock'n'roll spewface

OFF SIDE

I'm not here to see the footy, I just want to watch them punch on
Bring on the dancing girls for a bit of pre-match fun
Kick off before kick off  with a couple cans a rum
Me teams got the wooden spoon but we're gunna be number one

And it's a try, It's a try
I got me warm beer
I got me cold pie
It's a try, It's a try
But the ref's gone blind
He was off side

The half time score reads like some bloody awful cricket game
Ten week losing streak, this weeks gunna be the same
But they're a close knit team, go the reach around in the scrum
And if they all pull together then this games as good as won

And it's a try, It's a try
The bomb's gone high
Down the blind side
It's a try, It's a try
But the ref's gone blind
He was off side

Five minutes to full time and things are getting real ugly
I've got a gut full of piss and me team's well and truly beat
I'm gunna show those mongrel bastards what I really think
I'll go the streak, I've dropped me strides, and I'm about to jump the fence

It's a try, It's a try
But the ref's gone blind
He was fucken off side

But the ref's gone blind he was fucken off side

POCKET POOL

I've got me left ball in the right pocket,
Right ball in the left pocket,
Big ball ricochets off the small,
I'm playing pocket pool,
Two shot rule,
Gunna chalk up the meat cue,
Cue's caught up in a pube
Wo-oh,
Gonads.

Got a bag full of balls,
Shame they're both smalls
But I gotta go with what I got
Although it's not a lot
Pick a game that I can play
That I can afford
When I got nothin' to do
And I'm bored
Wo-oh.

PORT KEMBLA KNEE TREMBLA

I'm going to Port Kembla. It's got everything I need,
Heartland of industry with a healthy dose of sleaze,

Hey mate can you lend me ten bucks? I'm going to Wentworth St.
The girls down there, they really love me, they're lining up on the street

Linin' up just for me

I'm going to Port Kembla. It's got everything I want,
Armed hold up at the servo by some knife wielding drugged out cunt

Hey mate can you lend me ten bucks? I'm going to Wentworth St.
Bad girls on bad drugs working real hard, stains on my back seat
Past the steel works, hot burek, smoke stack, there's a sewerage works on
the beach
I'm goin to Port Kembla for a knee trembler, the girls are filthy and cheap

Filthy and cheap

ROCK YOUR LIVER

Two slabs of tinnies sittin' in the esky
A handful of people ready to drink
A bottle of Bundy, a gallon of gin
Now the gig's started let the drinking begin

The Vee Bees rock your liver

Grog goes down, very few left
Kicking out the jams with all of my mates
Night's getting long, sun's coming up
Now I need a dose of grog rock

The Vee Bees rock your liver

ROOTS AND BLUES

Out on the town, I'm a good lookin' bloke,
Verandah over the toolshed,
I don't mind a beer, don't mind a root, and I'll blue if I have to,
Y-yeah yeah yeah nah - nah nah nah,
I'm a lover, not a fighter,
And I'm a thinkin' man's man, I'm a drinkin' mans man,
In a thinkin' mans band, and you'd better start thinkin'

About what are ya gunna do
About the roots and blues?
What are ya gunna choose
Out of the roots and blues
And if I was youse I'd be thinkin'
CHOOSE ROOTS!
CHOOSE ROOTS!

The Vee Bees band use and recommend Aussie roots and blues,
And we'd rather be rootin' than bluein',
Go on yeah, twist me arm,
And we're a thinkin' mans band, a drinkin' mans band,
A thinkin' mans band, and you'd better start thinkin'

About what are ya gunna do
About the roots and blues?
What are ya gunna choose
Out of the roots and blues
And if I was youse I'd be thinkin'
CHOOSE ROOTS!
CHOOSE ROOTS!

And when it's time to decide and you don't know what to do,
You don't know what, you don't know where,
And you don't know who you're gunna do it to,
And you can't decide between a root and a blue,
CHOOSE ROOTS!
CHOOSE ROOTS!
CHOOSE ROOTS!
Choose blues if ya wanna make a bad decision,
CHOOSE ROOTS!
CHOOSE ROOTS!
CHOOSE ROOTS!
Beware! Beware! The brewers droop!
CHOOSE ROOTS!
If you want to have a good time
CHOOSE ROOTS!
You know you get it for free
CHOOSE ROOTS!
For fun
CHOOSE ROOTS!
Way-hey
ROOT, ROOT, ROOT
Baby give it to me.

THREE THONGS

I've got two on the hoof
One up the crack

I am in the raw
Well maybe not quite just yet
And I got bloody good taste
Which ya haven't seen yet
Rubber between me toes
And cloth stuffed up me cheeks
In my three thongs
I am a bitch in heat

I've got two on the hoof
One up the crack

I'm a slave to fashion
Should be up on the catwalk
Heads are turning
People startin' to talk
I'm in London, Paris, New York, Quangers
I'm wearing tip top flip flops and
My G-banger

Baby take me home
To meet ya mother
I'm in me budgie smugglers
And me double pluggers
I've got one two... three
I'm the one true...hey
I'm the one true triple plugger!
Version: 8.5.432 / Virus Database: 271.1.1/2645 - Release Date: 01/25/10 19:36:00

DRIVE THRU BOTTLO

Driving down the driveway in me shitbox,
I crunched her into first,
Driving real slow, me arm’s out the window,
I’m not gunna stop, I’m gunna GO! GO! GO!
I’m going for me wallet that’s in me hip pocket,
But I’m sitting on it,
Still it’s a thrill when I get to the till,
And grab meself some cans,
Hey mate! Chuck it on me tab!

Down the,
Drive Thru Bottl’o.
Oh yeah.

Drive away down the driveway, drive through the Drive Thru,
I’m working up a thirst,
I’m gunna go… I’m gunna go,
I’m not gunna stop, I’m gunna GO! GO! GO!
I’m trying to make up me mind about what I’m going to buy,
But I can’t decide,
And it’s lucky I brought the you beaut ute,
Cos the hatch back Jap got no boot!

Drive Thru Bottl’o.
Oh yeah.

Going to a barby, going to a show,
Gunna drive through the Drive Thru Bottl’o
Going to a party, hanging ‘round at home,
Gunna drive through the Drive Thru Bottl’o,
If you don’t know what to do, don’t know where to go,
Better drive through the Drive Thru Bottl’o
If you haven’t got a car you’d better have a bloody go at,
Walking through the Drive Thru Bottl’o,

Drive Thru Bottl’o,
Woah oh oh.

ROO BAR

Driving forty-eight wheels rolling down the highway,
I’m don’t say much, cos I got nothing to say,
But I’m a man of action, I’m a blood spillin’, killin’ machine,
With a passion,
For lining them up and knocking them down,
Get off the roads when I’m around your town,

Cos it’s the thrillin’ of killin’ bloody-kanga-bloody-roos,
My way on the highway,
I got a roo in the bull bar, a bull in the roo bar,
I’m under the influence: Amphetamines and booze,
High-way on the highway,
I got a root in the front bar and a beer in the back bar,

Driving forty eight wheels rollin’ down the road,
Full load! Full load!
Guzzle down the fuel, guzzle down the grog, and guzzle up the go,
I’ll tally up the kill count sometime when I get home,
And I got blood on me hands from,

The thrillin’ of killin’ bloody-kanga-bloody-roos,
My way on the highway,
I got a roo in the bull bar, a bull in the roo bar,
I’m under the influence: Amphetamines and booze,
High way on the highway,
I got a root in the front bar, a beer in the back bar,

I’m off the road…again,

Forty-eight wheels rollin’ down the road,
Copper’s pulled me over, he’s checking me load,
I’ve got the road train road rage; I’m off my face,
I’ll tally up the kill count when I get home,
Forty-eight wheels, fifty-eight gears,
Truck stop prozzie’s ripping off my gear,
I’m mowing ‘em down from dusk ‘til dawn,
And while I’m running you down she’ll be blowing the horn,
And I don’t give a fuck but I’ll tell you something,
As long as I’m alive,
I’m gunna keep on truckin’,
I’m gunna keep on fuckin’,
I’m gunna keep on shootin’,
I’m gunna keep on rootin’,
Oh yeah!

NO I.Q.

Well I heard somewhere that to play rock’n’roll music you don’t need no brain,
But compared to you, I’d win a Nobel Prize,
On absinthe and cocaine,
I’m dumber than I look but you’re so much dumber,
You haven’t got no hope
Does it run in the family? A lack of air to the brain?
Did you choke on a bloke?

And we got,
Four blokes,
Two brain cells and a carton of beer,
And you’ve got,
No idea.

And the capacity of your head and my arse is about the same,
You’re as thick as two planks, you’re a bloody drongo,
You haven’t got no hope,
Does it run in the family? A lack of air to the brain?
Did you choke on a bloke?

And we got,
Four blokes,
Two brain cells and a carton of beer,
And you’ve got,
No idea.

You’re dumber than I look,
You’re dumber than you look,
No I.Q.

FOUR DAYS IN FYSHWICK

Power drinking commie reds,
Gordo’s chopping up the heads,
Bleeding fingers, rotten guts,
Twenty flicks for twenty bucks,

BBQ in Pirie Street,
Burning high country meat,
Beers’n’thongs’n’Aussie rock,
Car yards, brothels, adult shops,

Davo’s ripping out hot licks,
Tommo’s broken all his sticks,
Glenno’s charging on the bass,
Norro’s singing off his face,

Four days in Fyshwick

NO WORRIES

At the bar down the Aussie,
Looking for a bit of flossie,
The girl behind it won’t serve me,
Reckons that I’m off my tree,
“C’mon love, be a sport,
You served the last nine beers I bought”,
She says I’m blind but I can walk,
I can’t be pissed ‘cos I can talk,

No worries.
She’ll be right.

One last beer, I’ve got the money,
I’m slurring words and speaking funny,
She turns around to fill the glass,
I’m smiling, perving at her arse,
I tell her that she is pretty,
She just smiles and takes three fifty,
Beer in hand now, cheers for that,
She’s a good looker, I’ve cracked a fat.

No worries.
She’ll be right.

She says her name is Rosalie,
G’day I’m Norro, how’d you be?
Would you like a lift tonight?
She says I’m pissed; she’ll drive all right,
I go outside to get a lift home,
I’m so blind I’ve lost me bone,
Find out that she drives a one tonner,
She is good; she’s a stunner,
Left the pub in a HZ
I just want to get her in bed!

No worries.
She’ll be right.

Oh no!
Oh yeah!

SAY UGLY

Stay ugly.
Just like me.
You can’t polish a turd.
Bashed with the ugly stick.
As ugly as a hat full of chewed arseholes.

BASHIN' THE BISHOP

Beating the meat,
Pulling the pud,
Feeding the chooks,
I’m jerkin’ the gherkin,
Going the flog,
Batting off,
Polishing the pork sword is…
Is really coming in handy,
Choking the chook,
Milking some man clag,
Wank-did-diddy-wank-wank,
I’m stabbing the cat,
Having a pull,
Having a toss,
I’m doing the knuckle shuffle
With Mrs. Palmer and her 5 daughters,

Woah, oh, oh, I’m bashing the bishop.

Pulling the pud,
Beating the meat,
Feeding the chooks,
I’m spanking the plank and,
Goin’ the flog,
Batting off,
Pumping me fist,
Wank-did-diddy-wank-did-diddy-wank-wank-wank,
Choking the chook,
Make the bald man spew,
Jerkin’ the gherkin,
I’m molesting the meat stick,
I’m havin’ a pull,
I’m havin’ a toss,
I’m shaking hands with the trouser snake,
Strum the one string bass,
I’m not a wanker!

Woah, oh, oh, I’m bashing the bishop.

DRINKIN' PROBLEM

Two cans, two hands, only one mouth!

Don’t you really hate it when you’re having a drink,
You’re trying to keep up your fluids and you’re starting to think,
About ways to maximize your liquid intake,
And you’ve only had a couple out of the case,
When the idea comes to you its pure simplicity,
You’ll double up your drinks; it’s a matter of greed,
And so it’s two at a time and when it’s time for your shout,
That’s when you realize you’ve only got one mouth,

Two cans, two hands, only one mouth!

I’m gunna see someone about me major design fault,
Cos none of this shit is even my fault,
And the problems really startin’ to get out of hand,
Because I’ve got one mouth but I’ve got two hands!
I got one mouth!! I got two cans!!
It’s the bloody waste that I can’t stand,
I’m gunna get a doctor to sort me out,
I’m gunna get him to cut me another mouth.

TWO MOUTHS!!!

Two cans, two hands, only one mouth!

UP THE SHIT
First time ‘round it’s a joke,
Fixed it up cos she’s broke,
Second time ‘round it’s bloody stuffed,
Kick that mongrel up the guts,

Up the shit.

It’s all wrong, it’s R.S.
You’re in the shit, check the depth,
I’d thought that you would learn your lesson,
You shit your pants to keep me guessing,
Kaka from arsehole to breakfast,
What could really go wrong next?
It’s sublime, it’s not fine,
Change your undies, change your mind,

Up the shit.

Up shit creek,
On high tide,
Barbed wire boat is up the shit.

Poo poo kaka

BEER O’ CLOCK

You can get it when you’re working a plough
You can get it when you’re milkin a cow
You can get it when you’re shootin a roo
You can get it when you’re havin a blue
You can get it when you’re diggin a trench
You can get it when you’re buildin a fence
You can get it when you’re paintin a sign
You can get it when you’re sellin fishin line
Its time to rock
Beer o’clock

SUCK ME OFF

I’m just a man
I enjoy the simple things in life
I work for a living
And I stay right outta strife
I take what I can get
Because I’m easy on my wares
But a little love and tenderness
Never goes astray
Suck me off
Tonight my darling
Looks like we can have some fun
Yeah
Suck me off
Until I’m black and blue
Cause in the morning
I still rise up like a gun
It’s not that hard to please a man
So take it in your stride
Perfection comes with practice
So practice all the time
Don’t feel self- conscious
Just do it where the fuck you like
Do it in the car park
Or under city lights

BACK ON THE ROCK N ROLL
Yesterday I left my job
And I left my woes behind
Life’s better on the other side
And I know I got plenty of time
Life in the fast lane
Sure does get me down
And I’m goin back on the street
Start acting like a clown
I’m goin back on the rock n roll
Unemployment soothes my soul
There’s no place I gotta go
Cause today I’ll be stayin home
Won’t get out of bed today
Won’t be a part of the working class
I got no time to find a job
And I know I’ll just get the arse
I got plenty better people to see
I got plenty better things to do
Goin out on the piss
Spewin up in the loo

SHOOTIN’ AN ROOTIN’
Land cruisers
Six shooters
Rum and beer
Fishin gear
Dodgy swags
Dacca bags
Aussie snags
Quangers lads
Shot guns
Hot buns
Bush pig
Fifty quid
Swag shag
Old hag
Beer goggles
Empty bottles

QUANGERS
Yass road way
Poofs not gay
Munchie caught a pig
Craig took a swig
Workin all day
Drinkin all your pay
Beadies had a shocka
Goin to the knocka
Land cruiser utes
Talking bout roots
Playing with the dogs
Getting on the grog
At the Buffalo Tavern
We’re all havin
A couple or three
C & D and me
At Quangers

AUSSIE BEEF SNAGS

WHADDYA RECKON ABOUT ME UTE
Lowered three inches to get the bitches
Whaddya reckon about me ute
It’s a custom built donk got five on the floor
Whaddya reckon about me ute
Roll bars, spotties, table top, mags
Whaddya reckon about me ute
It’s a one tonne V8 CB radio
Whaddya reckon about me ute
Listen to it purr just to perfection
Rollin on the streets again
Doughies in the dirt and the stereos pumpin
That’s why I get laid every night
It’s a demon on the highway
Whaddya reckon about me ute
It’s a demon in the dirt
Whaddya reckon about me ute
I got a pump up mattress for me tray
Whaddya reckon about me ute
For all the ladies that come my way
Whaddya reckon about me ute

FUCKED UP DRUGGO

Byron Bay new years day
Smackie hippie heaven
Best to stay away
Thousands of combi’s
Packed full of zombies
Stinkin feral stench
Makes me want to wretch
Dread locked hair
And dodgy tattoos
Coupla beers And then
A pin prick bruise
Standin in the street
In ya bare fuckin feet
Draggin the chain cause
You’re just fuckin beat
Hey
Fucked up druggo

FULL FLOG

Goin out havin fun
On the bourbon on the rum
Drinkin scotch drinkin beer
Double rounds on the gear
Checkin in checkin out
A time to knuckle a time to shout
Grab a slice for a feed
Take a nap off the street
Take a piss up a lane
Wake up in the afternoon
And do it all again
Full flog
He’s a gun he’s a family man
He does what he can
He always seems to land on his feet
He’s a cunt of a kid
‘ ken oath
People that he meets
Someone up the street
Livin off alcohol
Keeps him on his feet
Lookin for a knuckle
Lookin for a knock
Put him in the lock up
Put him on the spot
Cause the centre of attention
Is where he likes to be
Once you’ve seen him once before
There’s nuthin left to see

C’MON CUNT
There’s ice on the windscreen
And there’s fog on my breath
The demisting system has
Gone right down the drain
Once the fucker started
You’d think everythin’ll be alright
Whaddya think you’d say
When the cunt stalls at the lights
C’mon Cunt, C’mon Cunt
Bottles on the table
And there’s blood on the floor
There’s whiskey on the inside
And I’ve seen it all before
Memory is slowly coming back
But the night has only just begun
Who the hell was fightin’ here last night
C’mon then you cunt

When your car won’t start
And you’re runnin real late
C’mon cunt c’mon cunt
When you can’t get it up
And it’s on your first date
C’mon cunt c’mon cunt
When you’re stompin around
And you’re looking for a fight
C’mon cunt c’mon cunt
Or your waitin for a taxi
You’ve been drinkin all night
C’mon cunt c’mon cunt
When something’s gone wrong
With the fuckin TV
C’mon cunt cmon cunt
When you’ve been fucked up
And you’re in a bad way
C’mon cunt c’mon cunt
When you call someone up
And they put you on hold
C’mon cunt c’mon cunt
When you’ve been date raped
And you’ve never been told
C’mon cunt c’mon cunt

MALUA BAY

Gonna go north
Gonna go south
I’m gonna get wicked
I’m gonna get grouse
I’m gonna get tops
I’m gonna get ace
I’m gonna get the hell
Right outta this place
So come on get on it
At Malua Bay
I’m gonna go up
I’m gonna go down
I’m go stay home
I’m gonna go into town
I’m gonna go fishin, sip on a few
Surfs gone flat nothing better to do
So come on get on it
At Malua Bay

HEY MATE

You don’t give a shit about Gazza and me
You’ve done something wrong to the fuckin TV
You owe fifty bucks on last weeks rent
You’ve got no mull and you’re always bent
You got to the pub on a payday binge
The rest of the week you’re gonna be on the stinge
You pissed in the cupboard you chucked in the bed
You got no food but you’re always fed
Hey mate-you’re a dickhead
Hey mate-a fuckin dickhead
Hey mate-you’re a dickhead
Hey mate

BLOOD NUT

Up early every morning
Up and out of bed
Get out a cigarette
To kick start my head
I grab the ham grab the cheese
Tomato salt and pepper
I wrap it up in glad foil
I’m putting it all together
Diggin in the dirt
I work at seven
Diggin everyday
I’ve got no brains
Open up me esky
I forgot me fuckin sanga’s
Once again
Up early every morning
Up and out of bed
Light up a cigarette
Then its time to butter some bread
I grab the ham grab the cheese
Tomato salt and pepper
I wrap it up in glad foil
I’m slappin it all together
Cause I forgot me sanga’s
I better go call me missus
She can come and bring
She can bring em out to me
Cause I can’t go on working all day
Diggin in the dirt on minimum wage
Without me fuckin feed

PISSED ON SUNDAY

I don’t know anyone
Who would refuse a beer
On a Sunday afternoon
On my holy day of rest and relaxation
Brain is black and blue
Pissed on Sunday
Forget about Monday
Pissed on Sunday
So you had a big one
On Saturday night
A fuckin blinder on the piss
And when you woke up
In the morning
Your head was full of mist
So take those daily vitamins
And shove em right up your arse
Cause the best cure for a hangover
Is a fuckin Sunday blast

The time is right and it’s Friday afternoon
I’ve knocked off from work
The bags are packed in the back of the ute
And we’re drivin into the murk
You got your rod and you got your sunscreen
Sure you got plenty of beer
So you can sit right back and crack one open
And watch those girls roll off the beach
String bikinis hard zucchinis
Play on your mind in the sun and the moonlight
Shinin down on her pretty tanned skin
And her breast and nipples and her legs and her thighs
Goin down the bay
And I’ll be back Monday
If we make it up the Clyde
Cause there will always
Only be just one way
To get back to Batemans Bay
So you wind down the window
Stick out your arm
And make a devil sign with your fist
Comin up to a Braidwood stop
It’s time to take a piss
Grab a smoke and stretch your lungs
Don’t forget to have a pie
From here on in we’re goin up
Its time to play the Clyde

THREE ON THE TREE

Pushed her on the forehead
Wearin sweaty palms
Blinded by the moonlight
Get outta here in my car
Well I got three on the tree
But I’m too blind to see
Sittin right next to me
Is a bottle of rum
With my trusty 308
Cause when I slam it into third
I start to come alive
Road kill stains the grill
And I’ve got bloodshot eyes

NO WORRIES

At the bar down the Aussie
Tryin to get a bit of flossy
Girl behind it won’t serve me
Reckons that I’m off my tree
C’mon love be a sport
You served me last nine beers I bought
Says I’m blind but I can walk
I can’t be pissed cause I can talk
No worries she’ll be right
She’ll be right she’ll be right
One last beer I’ve got the money
I’m slurring words and speakin funny
Turns around and fills a glass
I’m smiling pervin on her arse
Tell her that she is pretty
She just smiles and takes three fitty
Beer in hand now cheers for that
She’s a good looker I’ve cracked a fat
Says her name is Rosalie
G’day I’m Norro howdya be
Would you like a lift tonight
Says you’re pissed I’ll drive alright
Go outside to get a lift home
I’m so blind I’ve lost me bone
I find out she drives a one tonna
She was good she’s a stunna
Left the pub in a HZ
I just want to get her in bed
Oh no
Oh yeah
Oh no
Oh yeah